Trovami: Chapter 1
by LoviFox
Summary: Wait.  That is all Venenziano can do now, hoping that Germany will give him some sign, that he is still out there. And alive.


It would be years since he last saw the German, and seeing him now, would be nothing short of a miracle. It ached more than anyone would ever know, it ached that the German had gone and disappeared, yet there hadn't been a single thing he could do about it. The only thing he had to ease the pain of loosing one of the only people he could truly call 'friend,' was the fact that he wasn't alone. There were those whom had gone in search of Germany, and had too disappeared, if someone could have monitored more closely, they would have come to find that, they'd all vanished in the same area. It was a key peace to everyone being gone, yet no one had noticed it, they'd pressed it aside in their minds and hadn't ever thought of such a simplistic possability or circumstance.

Along with Germany; England, China, America, Switzerland, and recently, Romano had vanished. The fact that Romano was now gone too, stung and ate through Venenziano's heart, as if his heart was an apple, and worms were crawling within it, festering fear there. It was only recent that Romano couldn't be found, but Italy had the aching feeling he wouldn't see him again for a long time, just like Germany. Italy would have sought aid from Germany's older brother, but he'd gone off in search of everyone a long while ago, though he still sent letters, showing he, thankfully, wasn't gone like everyone else. It was an aching and lonely time for Italy, and the only one that was there to aid him through it at the time, was Japan. Japan had stayed around because of his recent tsunami and earth quake incidents, Italy had a fever because of his low economy rates. Though he desperately wanted to go out and search, search until he too went missing, search the ends of the earth for what he'd lost, he was forced to stay home by his Supervisor.

"Greece is in worse shape than me! Please to be letting me go!"

"No Italia! You must stay kaput you hear!"

It was terrible. Being locked in a house in bed, wanting so desperately to do something to aid those you have lost, but not being allowed to because you are under lock down. He didn't feel 'that' bad! Why couldn't they see that! Laying there in bed was misery. All he could do was stare at blank walls and think about Germany, think about his Fratello, think about... where on the earth they went. He wasn't allowed to watch TV, he wasn't allowed near the windows, in fear he would get worse, or in fear he would acquire a headache. Yet, he was already growing an intollerable headache, from over thinking, over working his brain harder than he normally would have. He wanted his friends back, he didn't want what happened with Holy Rome, to happen again.

"Do... you really want to be free from here Italia?"

"What do you mean Japan? They... they won't-a let me leave..."

"Italy... they're attacking Germany's home..."

Germany's home. No... they couldn't. Who would sink so low, as to attack someone's home, who wasn't even around for so long? Then a thought occured to him, Germany's iron cross... he'd left it there, he'd left it to Italy to reassure his return! That cross was in Germany's home! Italy sat up quickly, a pain seering its way into his head and consuming the free space.

"Japan! You have to help me get there.. if... if they burn his home.. I..."

"Don't worry... I have a plan..."

It was quite simple to get Italy out of the house, though it was in a rather dark way, Japan pretended to have heart problems, and as the boss's attention were drawn to him, Italy made his easy get away. He felt terrible going through Switzerland, because the man wasn't there, he hadn't any problem, and he was actually 'glad' that he didn't for once. It made him feel dark for feeling 'glad' that someone was gone, though it wasn't what he'd truly intended on feeling, he just, had to get to Germany's house quickly, and Switzerland would have surely caused delays.

Finally, he'd reached his destation, but what he found, was horrifying.

The house was lit with a fire that's warmth could be felt miles away, though Italy chose to ignore the feeling, telling himself that it was just getting a bit warmer because of changing countries so quickly. Now he stood there, stood there before a burning building, his eyes set on the flames, though it stung to look at them. Then it hit him; 'The Cross!' The item was iron, it would survive the flames, yet Italy couldn't stop himself, he wasn't thinking clearly now, all he could set his mind on, was the thought that the one article he had left of Germany, was now ablaze in the flames of hell that someone had so unjustfully set upon the German's home.

He charged forward, fear pounding at him, trying its best to push him back, even though it was of no use. He broke through a window, feeling flames against him, charring his clothing, burning them against his skin. Yet he didn't care right now, he had to find his memory! He had to keep Germany alive! He couldn't forget like he'd forgotten Holy Rome. Holy Rome only a fuzzy image embeded somewhere in his muddled thoughts. He couldn't let it happen again! He ran through the house, flames licking at him, tasting him, ready to consume him if he stopped for one second, in the wrong area. Then, he saw it! There it was! He ran to the miniature glinting item deep within the ashes, he picked it up into his palm, and imediately let it drop with a yell, it was extremely hot, and it burned a print straight into his hand. He looked at the burn, an iron cross, there in his hand. Though he had this, he still couldn't give up on the real thing, reaching down and picking it up by it's burned string, holding it tightly and turning to make his way out.

Or so he'd hoped, but he couldn't see anything through the smoke now, he began to cough, looking around frantically, then, the fire caught up with him. It reached up into the roof above and brought it down, straight upon Italy, the flames wrapping themselves around the piece of flooring and burning Italy along with it. As he laid there, smelling his own burning flesh, feeling the agony of it as it sizzled, all he could think about, was Germany. He would have felt bad about not thinking of his brother first, but he couldn't right now, for he was dying. He stared at the cross there, now laying on the ground, its string in his stinging hand. How he longed to be saved by the one he cared about. How he longed to be forced to his feet by rough hands he was so familiar to, how he longed... his vision began to fade.

"G-Germany.. please... help..."

Blurring in and out, was this it? Was he never going to see Germany again now? Was it all going to end here, without one argument or beg for his life to anyone? Suddenly, as if by prayer itself, Italy saw black boots running up to him, because his lungs were filled with smoke, his brain was slowly dying, and he himself was burning, his heart gave him the only comfort it could, making him believe the boots, belonged to Ludwig. With that comfort, he faded into a deep, deep sleep.

Pain.

That's all he can recall from awakening, pain. Pain that seered through the bandages that were so tightly wrapped around him. He thought back to when Germany had been the one to wrap his wounds in bandages, the wounds were only ever minor, but Germany had still insisted that they'd be wrapped. He did it so carefully, so caringly, Italy had never known any other way for bandages to be tied, but these, these stung worse than when he was in the fire. In a daze, he turned to his hand, it was empty of the cross, and he began to panic, looking around in utter terror until, his eyes met Japan at his bedside, holding out the precious memory he'd almost died for. Italy took it swiftly, holding it as close to his heart as he could, tears forming in his eyelids.

"He didn't save me.. did he? It.. It wasn't him..."

"No... I'm solly.."

"I... I knew... from when I awoke and.. and thought about it I... I knew.."

The tears fell, they fell in large quantaties, one after another, fighting for who would get to the end first, making their jump to the covers bellow.

"I'm.. really.. I miss Mista Germany too..."

Italy felt so helpless, he turned to Japan and quickly wrapped the fragile man in a loose hug, though it stung to move so fast, he had to receive comfort somehow.

"My fratello.. Germany... they're both..."

For once, Japan, had to hold him back. He lifted his hands and lightly placed them upon Italy's sore back, he held them there as Italy cried into his white shirt. Japan felt so sorry, he wanted to do more than he had been, he wanted Italy to feel at peace and be cheerful again, though he pretended to be, much like a familiar Spaniard, it just wasn't him. He was off somehow, and Japan knew, Germany was constantly on the Italian's mind, and in the Italian's heart. It was leading Japan... to hate the German.

How could he do this? How could he do something so brutal, when he knew that Italy had insecurites about being left, all alone. How could he be so cruel, so.. wasn't he trying to find a way home? Why hadn't he by now! Then there were the others on his mind, for instance, Arthur Kirkland. He had grown to be fond of the man, Arthur was one of his few friends on this earth, and he too was missing. How could they all just vanish like that and leave everyone to worry themselves into depressing sickness. Even Russia, had been in mourning. Nobody knew, but when Japan had been at a world meeting, long after it was over, just so he could be there again, he found Russia in a room alone, and there was a tear on his face. Clear as light of day, a tear glistened there as the Russian stared out a window. Who he was crying for, was a mystery, though Japan's heart knew well, that it was for China.

Japan closed his eyes, hugging the Italian tighter now.

"How long has it been... that... that I've been asleep?"

"A few weeks.. a month... or two..."

"And..."

"No.."

That one word bit deeper into his flesh than all the others, it meant everything that word, it meant that Prussia hadn't returned home, it meant that Germany and all others were still missing, that one word, meant the world Italy knew, was still broken. How could they have vanished so suddenly! Didn't anyone in the world see where they'd gone? Were they... alone... and are they alone now too? Are they even... alive? These words were like a vicious flood to Italy's mind, they filled him to the brim and ached him even worse than he had been. He just.. wanted to know so desperately, if there was even a simple sign to their existence still being there, he would grab onto it and never let it go, he would hold that little clue and suck it dry of all its knowledge.

"Italy... there is someone here to see you.. Mr. Japan, I believe its time for your anual check up.. I'm sorry,"

"No, its quite alight.. gomen Italy.."

Japan bowed to his friend, something that wasn't all that natural as it had once been, though he felt the Italian needed it as some sort of comfort, to show him that Japan himself, would stop at nothing to find where the others had gone as well. Italy laid there for a few minuets, contemplating all that had just passed through his mind, all that had gone so quickly, so fiercely, like a tidal wave of swirling and broken emotions. It may hurt him now, to see a 'familiar' face, but what if it was Prussia with good news? What if... he found something out? Italy's hopes began to raise, it felt as though finding the missing beings was now the only thing keeping him alive.

Much to his hidden dismay, Antonio Fernandez Carreido stepped in. He smiled none the less, smiled at the man who he knew ached deeply too. The man, however, didn't smile back, causing Italy to grow insecure, turning to his covers and shifting his legs ever-so-slightly, wrinkling the fabric keeping him warm. Spain walked up to his bedside, every footstep easily heard as it tapped against the cold tiled flooring, used to keep fleas at bay. His only source of knowing that the man was now at his beside, was the fact that the clacking had stopped, and gave way to the sound of breathing, was he running? Why had he run here?

"H-Hola Spa-"

Without so much of a finished sentence, Italy felt the man's head fall near his thigh, there on the bed. He turned curriously, finding that the man was now knelt there, his forehead on his arms, his arms near Italy's thigh, at first causing it to twitch at the sudden feeling of being touched. He wanted to say something to the man, he wanted to make his psychological and hystorical brother feel better, even if he himself couldn't bring his concience to aid him in doing so.

"Dios Mio... where... did they..."

Italy could hear it well, there were sobs in between those few words, he himself found that he still hadn't stopped his own tears, letting them flow was much less tiresome. Though he no longer had much strenght to be hopeful and optamistic as he usually had been, Venenziano leaned over and rested his forehead on the back of Spain's head. His tears running off the sides of his nose and onto the Spaniard's unkept hair that smelt of earth and salt. With as much comfort as he could muster, Italy whispered very smoothly;

"Did you.. do you.. love fratello?"

Spain raised his head slowly, giving Italy warning to move his own away, back to sitting up as he had been when first the Spaniard entered. He looked with puffed eyes into Italy's own blood-shot eyes, and he nodded simplistically.

"Then.. Fratello will come back.. just like my love for Germany, yours will guide him back.. si?"

Spain was speachless, he couldn't think of a single reason that Italy had to be hopeful like he was currently, though his heart was telling him, that this was false hope, he shook himself, and stood up in a confident matter.

"Si.. they will all come home... then we can all celebrate with beer and wine!"


End file.
